


Your Dads Think You are Working Too Hard, and want you to Take A Break

by DruidX



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Acting like parental figures, Family Fluff, Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidX/pseuds/DruidX
Summary: My first attempt at a "y/n" style self-insert: Martin and Baurus are worried about you, and would like you to take it easy.
Kudos: 4





	Your Dads Think You are Working Too Hard, and want you to Take A Break

You stand in the courtyard of Cloud Ruler Temple. A cold wind brings the taste of ice down from the Jerrals, but you hardly notice. 

"And one, and two and _thrust_!" Pelagius cries. You time your steps to his calls, thrusting your sword ahead when he says. Sweat stands upon your brow. Your gambeson is damp, your armour weights you down. You've lost sense of time. But it doesn't matter. You don't know when you'll next be called out to deal with a gate. You must be ready, and that means honing your skills. 

Pelagius calls out again, "Step, and block, and strafe, and _strike_!" Metal clangs on metal, as another blade meets yours. You falter, surprised, and in your confusion, your sudden opponent disarms you. 

"Sorry, Hero," Baurus says stepping away. He tilts his head. "His Majesty wants a word." You turn. Martin stands behind you, a brown cloak thrown over his grey cassock. He smiles, and it's like a Summer's day on the Weald. 

"My friend... I wondered if I may have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, Sire," you say. Pelagius takes your training sword from Baurus, a charged look passing between the two men – though you're not sure what it means. 

"Let us walk," Martin suggests, and gestures to the walls. You fall in step with him. 

"Is something on your mind Sire?" you ask. 

"Yes. I... Forgive me; I am not sure how to say this." 

You shake your head. "However you wish is fine. We are friends, as you say. Please, speak your mind." He gives you a long considering look, draws in a breath and nods. 

"Very well. My hero, I'm concerned. You've stepped up your training regime, which is noble... But at what cost? You train long into the night, you hardly stop to eat... Please, I implore you: You must get more rest!"

You cross your arms. "Said the pot to the kettle."

Martin frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "It is true, I pour over the Xarxies into the small hours," he allows. "But it is not the same."

"Oh no?"

"I may lose my mind, yes, but weakness from lack of food could cost you your life. A mind is recoverable; a life is not."

"Is it though?" you say. "A mind recoverable, I mean."

Martin's frown becomes distraught. "Moreso than a life!"

"I'm perfectly healthy," you insist. Martin rubs a hand over his face, pinching at his temples, the bridge of his nose. He twists away, raising a pleading hand to Baurus. Your gut twinges; you didn't mean to be so acerbic. But he's worrying over nothing, you're sure.

Baurus places a hand on your shoulder, fatherly concern on his face.

"You may feel fine now, but the methods you're using are only a stopgap. They're a temporary fix, and will fail." He stops speaking, a hitch in his throat, as his hand falls from your shoulder. He blinks for longer than a blink, but you still catch the grief that clouds his eyes. Your arms loosen, your reaction to reach out, but he continues: "Your mind still needs true rest, not just fatigue recovery potions. Your body needs real fuel – hearty meat and veg."

"Perhaps," Martin says, turning back, "we could dine together. Would that give you the impetus to stop training and eat a real meal?"

You bite your lip, glancing out to where the spire of Talos' Chapel emerges from the valley's haze. Between Martin's soulful eyes and Baurus' worried frown, your will threatens to crumble. But how can you explain that for every moment of rest you take, the fires of Oblivion spill further into Nirn; that the clarion call of danger aching through your bones can only be held at bay by training? How can you be of help if all you do if sleep and eat?

"You cannot pour from an empty cup, my Hero" Martin says, as if he's read your thoughts. Gentle fingers guide your gaze back to them. "We're not saying don't train at all, just less intensely. You can't help them if you don't first help yourself." Martin's eyebrows rise in question and concern.

"Just one meal?"

Baurus nods. "For now," he says, offering you a tentative smile. "Let's see how it goes." You twist your fingers as you consider a full belly, and Fortis no longer berating you for letting your guard slip due to exhaustion.

"Alright," you agree.

Both men beam at you before gathering you into a hug.

"I'm proud of you," Martin says, and warmth like liquid honey spreads through you at his words.


End file.
